


The Red Grapple Grounder

by ttakeyaheadoff



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst with an angst ending, Attempted Murder, Bullying, Character Death, Dagur’s a fucking asshole, Heavy Angst, Inspired, It’s not really Dagcup honestly, It’s only Dagcup if you want it to be, M/M, Oneshot, it’s subjective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2020-10-29 10:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ttakeyaheadoff/pseuds/ttakeyaheadoff
Summary: When Hiccup is born unable to walk, Dagur is forced to grow close to him every time he visits Berk, and he forgets to appreciate Hiccup for what he can do — only realizing he should when it is too little too late.heavily inspired by James Hurst’s “The Scarlet Ibis”.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Not everything is historically accurate when it comes to inventions. Also, this takes place during the period of Berk where the dragon war was still going on. This story is not beta read, by the way. This also might be a little OOC, which I'm sorry about. 
> 
> Enjoy.

> The Red Grapple Grouder,
> 
> Inspired by James Hurst’s
> 
> ”The Scarlett Ibis”.
> 
> * * *

It was during winter when Hayden had been born — it would be his first winter and Dagur’s fifth. Dagur had only been to Berk a few times, when his father and the chief talked of things that had yet to concern him. He came to the group of elevated islands at the tip of the boat, pretending he was leading the fleet. Dagur had always been like that — desperate for leadership he could yet to have. 

He heard that when he was chief, Hayden — that was what they had named the prince of Berk — would be a future ally. Eventually the boats landed near the shore, and it hadn’t took long before Dagur stood next to his father, eager to meet the person who was going to be in his later life, foot bouncing. He hoped Hayden would grow up quickly, that before they became chiefs, they would get to run and jump and fight. Dagur was looking for a new opponent; he had bested every other kid at home.

And so when they entered the room, Dagur had seen what he didn’t expect. 

“Why is he so small?” He asked Valka, who had, still, days after giving birth, fresh tears on her face. Her expression was laced with pain and a despair he couldn’t understand. “I wasn’t that small when I was born.”

”I know, Dagur,” Valka whispered, and her eyebrows furrowed downwards. She began to sob softly, and Dagur had yet to know why, but he was confused, as his father guided him out of the room, told him to go to bed and closed the door in his face.

He hadn’t thought much of it, not til the next morning when he came to visit Valka again.

”His legs!” Dagur had yelled, no filter between his mouth and his brain. “Why do they look like that? They’re bent!”

And it was true. Hayden had legs unlike no other. They were scarred and twisted so abnormally that it made Dagur uncomfortable. It was an ugly sight; Dagur had never seen anyone look so strange. Not only his legs, but Hayden was red and shriveled, like an old man coming out of a hot bath. 

”Yes, Dagur. They are,” Valka told him, but unlike the day before, she instead wore a smile on her face. “But they’re apart of him. We should love him anyways.”

Dagur frowned. It seemed like such a strange idea. He didn’t love many people; most of the time made fun of them, unless they were his friends, people he played with. “Will he be able to run?”

”No, unfortunately. But Stoick and I are still going to take care of him.”

At that, Dagur had huffed. “Would he live past this winter?” It was a strong question — but he’d always ask those.

In that moment, Valka was very silent. “Yes, he will.” She said, and then she added another blanket around Hayden, all the while Dagur watched. 

“How do you know?” Dagur asked, and at that moment Hayden began to fuss, tiny fists bundled and his eyes shut, yet he was barely moving.

”He was born during Thor’s blessing. He was born during the sounds of Thor crashing his mighty hammer down on his foes. He will live.”

At that moment, Dagur decided that Valka was a crazy lady.

From the beginning, Hayden had thousand of surprises up his sleeve. Dagur had never expected so much from someone who could do so little with their body. Around Hayden’s second winter, the prince of Berk had yet been able to crawl, nonetheless walk, and Dgaur had found that as sickening and weak. It was the first thing he thought when Hayden came to his mind — that he was weak, and because of that, he was different.

There were other children around his age on Berk that he’d play with when he visited. Snotface, who was always trying to suck up to him. Dumb and Stupid, the twins that Dagur tried avoiding at all costs, who annoyed him so much he’d walk off storming towards the woods in a fit. Blondie, who he’d gotten into fights with more often than him breathing. And Fishlegs, who Dagur had also seen as weak.

They were either too boring or too annoying, and he had been filled with relief upon the news that Hayden was born. That relief was diminished when he saw Hayden the first and second time, and when he realized he’d have to wait years before Hayden could even talk. It infuriated the redhead to no end. 

He held the small, weak thing in his arms, his green eyes narrowed and his cheeks huffed. There were a lot of things Dagur didn’t like about Hayden. The fact he couldn’t walk. The fact his name was too _bold and strong _to fit him. The fact that he couldn’t grow up faster, and his legs.

”Why do I have to carry him?” Dagur had complained, his arms beginning to strain after the long period of time. He was at the Mess Hall, where the adults acted stupid, stuffing their faces of food and drinks that he wasn’t allowed to taste. It was Snoggletog, and he wanted nothing more than to go out and chase the sun, which was drowning into the ocean. 

“You need to spend time with him. He’s not all used to you, you know,” his father had glanced at him and responded briefly, before turning his head back towards the uproar of people seating at the long table.

_I don’t want him to get used to me, _Dagur had thought, his gaze going back to Hayden, who pulled at his hair. Dagur made a face, and when Hayden pulled a little too hard, he growled.

”Fine then! We’re going out, dad,” he told the chief of Berserkers, who merely grunted in return. With an eyeroll, the redhead quickly fled the scene, pushing open the heavy door of the Mess Hall and walking outside. 

He felt Hayden squirm in his arms, and heard him cry. “Oh, yeah,” Dagur muttered to himself, quickly changing his detour towards the hut he and his father were currently staying at. “You need a coat or you’ll die.”

Hayden whimpered and cling to him, and Dagur rolled his eyes. He kicked open to door to their hut, letting his slam behind them. A candle was lit on top of a table, and he grabbed it before heading upstairs.

”You can have one my coats. Dad would kill me if I took his,” At this point, Dagur felt like he was talking to no one but himself. After all, Hayden couldn’t do or say anything back. 

He set Hayden onto the bed, who flopped onto his stomach and squirmed. The redhead snorted and set the candle on the bedside drawer, walking to a trunk at the corner of the room. It hadn’t been snowing when he walked outside, but it was still cold, and he was certain that Hayden would freeze in a single minute if he wasn’t wrapped up.

”Here.” The coat would be way too big for Hayden, probably would reach his ankles, but it would have to do. It was better to be safe. After all, Dagur didn’t plan on staying around the Berkian village. He had some exploring to do, and if he had to take the other with him, then so be it.

When he reached the bed, Hayden was squirming and has reached the edge of the bed, trying to wiggle off. Dagur wasn’t surprised; it was the only movement Hayden could really do, and even when he did, his face would get red, sometimes even purple. In this case, it had reached a soft pink. Gothi — Berk’s doctor — had said that the strain of him moving around so would have put so much strain on his weak heart he’d die, but that had yet to happen. Dagur didn’t think it ever would.

He scooped up the two year old with a single arm, and Hayden responded with even more squirming. “Hold still, stupid,” Dagur muttered, and he set the oversized coat around Hayden’s shoulders, securing it by buttoning it up. When he was done, Dagur grinned proudly.

”Alright then. Let’s get out of here,” the redhead said, and he quickly fled from the hut, out the village and towards the large woods.

”Gods, Hayden. You’re heavy.”

With a grunt, the young, now seven year old set the young boy onto a rock. He wobbled a little, but then remained still after Dagur set a hand on his shoulder. He looked around, frowning slightly. The sun was now long gone, having drowned completely into the ocean. He was upset; Dagur had hoped he would catch it, but it seemed that no matter what direction he went it, he never got any closer to it.

”I don’t want to go back,” Dagur admitted, and he looked down to the Berkian. “What do you think? Should we head to the village again?” 

There was no response from Hayden, and Dagur rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wished Hayden was old enough to talk; and he hoped that when Hayden did reach that age, he would.

Suddenly there was a little noise. It sounded strange, and he didn’t know what it was until it came back again. _Hic. _A pause. _Hic. Hic!_

“Hayden!” Dagur laughed, and he crouched to the younger eyelevel. “Did you hiccup?”

Hayden gave a little grin in response, based of his teeth showing. “Hic.”

Dagur paused for a moment, before he too let out his own grin. “_Hiccup. _Yeah, I like that name a lot better. Way better than something like Hayden,” he muttered, “No way does it suit you.”

After that, he took Hiccup back to the village, where the adults party had long since ended. He told Valka and Stoick about what had happened, about the new name he came up with. His father and the Berkian chief had agreed, but Valka frowned and said that a baby born in the middle of Thor’s blessing was to be treated with better respect. Hiccup just, well, kept on hiccuping.

It was the first time Dagur had ever found Hiccup to be something other than useless.

Years had passed, and Dagur knew Hayden of only one name — Hiccup. For the longest time, he’d forgotten that it wasn’t his real one, and so whenever anyone referred to the prince of Berk by any other name than the one Dagur had given him, he’d ask, “Who?”

At this time, Hiccup was seven, and Dagur had just turned twelve. Hiccup had learned to crawl when he turned three, and for a long while it was the way he transported, up until the blacksmith of Berk had to make him a cart in which he was pulled around. It was usually Valka who took care of him, despite most of the citizens of Berk saying that Hiccup was in no way fit to be a future chief. Dagur had agreed, but when people began saying that Hiccup should be instead in Valhalla, he’d thrown a fit.

He came only seven times a year: Twice in the spring time for five days, twice in the summer for a week, once in the fall, and once again for Snoggletog. And every time he went, it seem the talk of what to do with Hiccup became more and more of an uproar.

And although Dagur had hated the idea of Hiccup off the earth and into Valhalla, there was a a knot of cruelty within him that he expressed every time he visited Berk, every time he saw Hiccup. A knot of cruelty, shame, and sadistic torture.

Every time Dagur had visited, Hiccup clung to his side like a leech, desperate to remain with him. Dagur knew exactly why, too. Despite treating Hiccup like a toy of entertainment each him he visited Berk, he was the only person who really talked to him. Unlike Snltface and the others, who sneered with disgust every time he saw Hiccup, Dagur was different. He held an anticipating grin to his face instead of that sneer, and Hiccup always grabbed onto that fact.

Dagur hadn’t been to Berk since Spring time, and at the moment, the Berserker tribe was at war, and hence their late visit. It was now fall, and Dagur had wanted to be there when his father and Stoick discussed helping the Berserkers through the war, but alas, he was told the same thing he was told years ago: “You need to spend time with him. He’s not all used to you, you know.”

And that was the reasoning to why the redhead was pulling Hiccup, who was sat in the small cart Gobber had crafted, through the forest. 

“D-Dagur? Where are we going?”

When he was younger, the redhead always desperately hoped that when Hiccup was older, he would talk. Now, it seemed like he’d never shut up. “I already told you, stupid. We’re going dragon hunting,” he sighed in irritation. “Now just pipe down.”

”Okay,” Hiccup mumbled quickly after, and there was nothing but peaceful, welcoming silence. Dagur huffed through his nose, and he stepped over a branch, dragging Hiccup’s cart along with him.

”Dagur? Do you hate me?”

”For the gods sake, what the Hel did I just say, Hiccup?”

”Sorry. I just want to know.”

Dagur paused. He didn’t know how to answer that. 

“You do hate me,” Hiccup said after a moment.

Dagur didn’t know what to say to that either.

There were mixed emotions Dagur had about the younger. He either hated Hiccup with a passion so strong he would play cruel pranks and thrive in the way he suffered, or he protected him and loved him in the way that he would fend off every bully, and there was no in between. It had always been one or the other. 

And it didn’t take long before Dagur dragged himself and Hiccup to their sanctuary in the woods. They called it Rocklock Cavern, after hours of arguing. And it was just like its name, too. A system of tunnels made of rock, swooping down from ground level. Hiccup had thought it was originally the nest of a Catastrophic Quaken, and Dagur had thought so too.

He let go of the cart handle, and it produced a thud in return. Dagur stop on the edge, peering down into the abyss of Rocklock Cavern. They hadn’t told a soul about the mysterious place, not since originally finding it two years ago, when Hiccup was four. 

“How long are we going to stay?” Came Hiccup’s voice from behind. The redhead kicked a rock down into the darkness, listening to it hit the ground.

”Until we find a dragon. I’ll kill it and bring it back.” 

“You can’t kill a dragon, Dagur.”

And very swiftly he had turned, his dark green eyes holding a wicked glare. “Are you doubting me, Hiccup?”

Nervously, the younger shifted. “W-well, yeah. You’re not old enough, a-and you’re not strong... Yet! Not strong enough yet!”

”That’s it, you twerp!” Dagur growled, and he hoisted the other out of the wooden cart, and Hiccup gave a high pitched yelp in turn. He spun on his feet, tightly fisting Hiccup’s shirt, dangling him over the edge of the cavern with one hand. “You’ve been on my nerves all damn day!”

“D-Dagur! Put me down! This isn’t funny!” Hiccup cried, his nails reaching up and scratching at his hand. The redhead couldn’t help but chuckle.

”Put you down? You mean, like this?” He asked, teasingly, tauntingly, moving his arm and letting Hiccup dangle even further. “You want me to put you down now?”

“No!” Hiccup yelled, following by Dagur’s laughter. “Dagur, please!” 

And then there was a roar. Dagur’s eyes widened and he had nearly flinched at the sound; so much that he had almost let go of Hiccup and dropped him down into the deep cavern. Said boy whimpered beneath him and clung harder, to which Dagur rolled his eyes, pulling the six year old away from the edge and tossing him carelessly back into his cart. 

“Ow,” Hiccup muttered, but Dagur paid no mind. Making haste, he muttered and snatched up the thin, fur bag that he had placed in Hiccup’s cart, pulling out an encased long sword and a helmet with pointed horns. 

“Stay here,” Dagur ordered, and he placed the helmet on his head, fastening it. “Don’t move.”

And Dagur had been about to leave, but there was a hand gripping his and Hiccup’s voice. “Dagur, wait! Take me with you! Don’t leave me,” he whispered, “Don’t leave me alone.”

“Fine,” Dagur glared in return. “But if you die or get hurt, it’s not my damn fault.”

And there was a light in Hiccup’s eyes, one that made Dagur want to slap it off his expression. “Okay! Just take me with you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Dagur hoisted the much smaller boy over his shoulders, and he ran through the woods until they found the entrance of a rock tunnel, kicking away branches and rocks. “Keep quiet, Hiccup, or I swear —“

”I’ll hush up, Dagur. I promise,” the boy whispered, his face right next to the redhead’s. “I’ll be the most quietest.”

He hadn’t believed it, but then there was another roar snatching his attention. It sounded pain and meek, to which Dagur deflated at slightly. He hoped the damn thing wasn’t injured; he wanted to take it out while it was at full strength, to flaunt his power, and show his father the things he could do. He wasn’t a child anymore.

With a shove to the vines blocking his path, Dagur made his way down the opening, into the dark cavern, tracing the walls with his hand. He reached the bottom and knew he had when his steps had became a complete echo. 

“Matches,” Dagur said, and there was a soft ruffling before they were pressed into his hand. He took one out of the small box and scratched it against the rock wall, and light blossomed cooperatively.

”Get on my back, Hiccup. I’m not gonna hold you the whole way.”

”I know,” came the response, and Hiccup slid from his arm, his own arms going securely around Dagur’s neck, and legs around his waist. “What kind of dragon you think it is?”

”How the Hel should I know? Besides, didn’t I tell you to keep quiet?” Dagur growled, and he began walking, stepping heel-toe. “And when we get there, get off my back and hide behind a rock or something. I’ll handle the dragon from there.”

”Just be careful, Dagur,” Hiccup whispered, and then he grew quiet. 

The roaring had continued, and Dagur was getting fed up. He unsheathed his sword and began running, his footsteps getting heavier and heavier. The match went out and with the snap of his fingers, another was pressed into his hand. With enough distance he travelled, light began to shine from the end of the long, Cavern hallway, and there was another monstrous roar.

They reached the end, and Dagur had expected a battle, but he didn’t see it all. What he had found instead had made his mood instantly turn sour, his sword falling to the ground with a clang. There was a soft gasp from Hiccup, and the legs and arms around him tightened. 

“It’s a dragon!” Hiccup yelled, and Dagur had almost slapped him right then and there.

”No shit, idiot,” He grunted in return.

And said dragon was injured. Its wing bent and folded, so much that it almost reminded a Dagur of Hiccup’s legs when he had first seen them. The stupid thing was trying to fly out of the cavern; after all, at this point, there were multiple openings through the ceiling. It was cut up and in a malnourished state, if the way its ribs were visible was anything to go by.

Dagur might have thought it a worthy opponent, had he found it at its best point, but it looked pathetic instead, writhing writhing and flapping its broken wing, trying oh so desperately to fly but instead remaining in the same place, not getting any closer to the opening than it had before. 

And although Dagur and Hiccup had made noise, the dragon didn’t seem to pay any attention to them. It gave one more attempt to fly out before falling onto the ground, laying there like a limp body. Puffs of white smoke exhaled through its nostrils, and Dagur was aware that it could have the potential to breathe fire.

”Grapple Grounder,” Hiccup whispered near his ear.

”What?”

”Grapple Grounder. That’s what it’s called. It coils around people and squeezes them to death,” he explained, and Dagur snorted.

”Well, isn’t that pleasant?”

”It breathes fire, too.”

”I know that, stupid,” Dgaur rolled his eyes again. He’d been doing that more and more frequently that he spent time with Hiccup. He grabbed his sword from the ground, sheathing it once more. “Well, it’s going to die. Let’s just leave it.”

”Wait,” Hiccup protested quickly. “Wait.”

”For God’s sakes, what now?” Dagur groaned. This entire mission had been pointless, and he wanted to head back to the village and terrorize some of the Berkians. Not only that, but he had drag Hiccup and his cart all the way back. He was irritated.

”Let’s stay,” Hiccup said. “It’s going to die, right? We should keep it company, at least...”

”You want to keep company for the dragon,” Dagur repeated dully.

”Stop being so mean! Let’s just stay, okay?” Hiccup said, his voice edging on to be pleading. “Come on, Dagur.”

He thought for a moment, before the redhead finally came to a decision. “We should kill it.”

”No!” Hiccup sighed, exasperated.

”Why not? Look at the damn thing, Hiccup. It can’t move. Can’t fly. Can’t do anything. It’s suffering, so we might as well get rid of it!” Dagur snapped. He was tired of the kid's damn antics.

Hiccup stayed silent, and Dagur would have ignored it and started walking if it weren't for the fact that something told him to stay there, nailed to the ground.  
  
"It's kind of like me, isn't it?" the brunette boy asked softly. "Would you put me down, Dagur? When I got older and was suffering, like you said, would you kill me and call it mercy? Or would it be different because I'm a person? Tell me the truth."  
  
And gods, Hiccup was a six year old, but he the way he said that sentence had sent shivers down his back. It made him feel transparent; ghostly, but most of all, it had him thinking, even though he shouldn't be.  
  
"No," Dagur said, after what had seemed like hours. "No, Hiccup, I wouldn't. Not even if you wanted me to."

"We should kill it," Hiccup said. "Like you said, it is hurting. I think it'll feel better not here anymore, right? It's too weak to fight back anyways."  
  
"Sure," Dagur agreed, and he set the boy in the corner, next to a pile of boulders. That urge or cruelty, of the want to hurt Hiccup had dispersed just slightly. Wordlessly, the Berkian prince took cover behind the multitude of rocks, peering from the cracks. Dagur made his way over to the used to be strong beast, his blade glinting through the veils of sunlight peering from the ceiling. He had gotten closer and closer, cautiously, and when he reached the dragon, it merely stared at him, giving a plead with its eyes that glanced at his sword and then to him. Its next action made Dagur's heart drop.  
  
The red Grapple Grounder prepared itself, eyes closing slowly and its head thudding gently onto the floor. Dagur raised his sword, and he tried not to look at Hiccup through the reflection. His breath wavered slightly, before he brought it down, straight through the dragon's temple.

The red seeped out of the wound. Gushed and poured, and Dagur hung his head. It was a dragon. He'd never felt sympathy for the creatures, yet at the moment, he felt as if his heart had been torn out of his chest, and he didn't know why. But the one thing he knew was that he would always remember this day - the death of the Red Grapple Grounder. 


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dagur teaches Hiccup something new, but it doesn’t work out in his favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not beta read.  
last chapter.
> 
> I am not sorry. Blame James Hurst.
> 
> Note* Not everything here is historically accurate — you might read of some inventions in this story that shouldn’t be in the Viking age. Please don’t mind it too much.

> “Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things.”
> 
> \- Arthur Schopenhauer
> 
> * * *

It had been during Spring when Dagur had a new idea. Hiccup was seven and he was thirteen, and the two were settled in a cozy spot within Berk’s woods. They called it Bolt Hole Hideout. It had only been last winter when Stoick told Hiccup and Dagur that, years ago before they were born, there had been a storm. Lightening struck from the sky and hit the ground, striking it so hard a hole was embedded into it, deep enough that you could fill it with water and swim like it was a lake.

Dagur and Hiccup had tried doing it, but they agreed against it when they came back to the hideout after having filled up half of it with water, and Terrible Terrors had decided to use it as a watering hole. Needless to say, they hadn’t put water in it again, and the Terrors hadn’t come back since.

Like all of their spots on Berk, Bolt Hole Hideout had their marking. In Rocklock Cavern they had carved a symbol into the rock, a mix of Berk and the Berserker tribe symbol embedded into it. In East Riff, a cliff that hung over the edge of the island and down below was water, they had carved the same symbol into a nearby tree. And with Bolt Hole Hideout, the symbol wasn’t carved, but rather, and arrangement of stones on the ground.

Dagur was training, practicing different frightening stances and techniques. Hiccup’s face was nose-deep into his sketchbook, and he was sure to hide whatever was inside away from Dagur. The two were contempt enough, but there had been a problem developing for the redhead.

Shame. There was so much of it he’d been getting frustrated by the minute. Shame every time he walked through Berk’s bush town square of having to drag Hiccup behind him in his cart, or him having to be the one to take care of Hiccup entirely. It was downright angering, and he’d finally had enough.

With a panting breath, Dagur tossed his sword onto the floor and grabbing the canteen Hiccup had besides him. He twisted the knob and opened it, taking a couple of gulps before setting it down.

”Hiccup,” Dagur said after a beat of silence, “Hiccup, I’m going to teach you how to walk.”

”I can’t walk, Dagur,” the boy said, turning to him, green eyes fond. “You know that. My legs don’t let me.”

Dagur snorted. “Nonsense,” he said, and stood, his arms hooking around Hiccup’s, and he pulled the other up with a grunt. “You want to learn, don’t you? You can’t learn sitting down all the damn time.”

”Dagur, I—“

”Yes you can, Hiccup. Just try,” he said, desperation edging on his voice. Part of Dagur was ashamed; and it had been nagging and nagging at him, hoping that maybe if Hiccup learned that it would go away. He was ashamed, and nothing hid that fact.

He set Hiccup on his feet and let him go, but the boy just fell back onto his arse, looking up at Dagur with what resembeled a glare. “You already know I can’t, Dagur. I’m like the Red Grapple Grounder.”

”No, damnit. Why the Hel are you comparing yourself to a dragon anyways? Unlike that thing, you have help. You have me,” he replied, and then once more he steadied Hiccup on his feet. “All you got to do is try.”

He let Hiccup go, but the boy only collapsed to the ground, like he had no bones in his legs. Like you built a tower and it fell straight down. 

“Dagur,” Hiccup warned, “Don’t hurt me.”

”Shut up,” Dagur sighed, exasperated. He crouched in front of the boy who lifted himself up with his elbows, taking his place back against the tree. “I’m not gonna hurt you right now. But I will if I gotta.”

This made Hiccup go quiet. The boy let out a mutter, holding his arms up and Dagur gave an almost cynical grin. He grabbed the boys two pale hands, pulling him back up to his feet and steadying him once again upright. 

It was so hopeless in the beginning that Dagur had almost given up, too exhausted to keep lifting Hiccup up from the ground, day after day. It had seemed to hopeless that he had almost given up, too angered at how this process of Hiccup walking only went slower and slower. It was so hopeless that Dagur has almost given up, believing that really, maybe Hiccup just couldn’t move his legs at all.

”Come on, Hiccup,” he growled, foot tapping on the forest floor impatiently. “Do you want me to be dragging you around for the rest of your life, huh? I’m not gonna be here to pull you all the time! Neither will your mom, or your dad.”

”I— I’m trying, Dagur. Really,” the boy protested, face a bright red from the heat of the sun and the strain of his effort. “It’s hard.” He stood, balanced on both of his legs, but he had yet to move. Hiccup was a bowlegged boy, and trying to move his legs was an action that took time. He’d been trying to walk for the past three hours; it had been two months and yet, still, he hadn’t succeeded at his goal.

”Obviously,” Dagur muttered under his breath. He stood only a couple of meters away from the boy, his arms extended towards him. “Just come on. One foot at a time.”

”I _know,” _Hiccup said, teeth gritted and voice strained. “But every time I move my foot, the other one loses balance, and I fall.”

”Then be quick about it!” Dagur snapped. He knew his yelling wasn’t helping the other any, but he didn’t care. He just wanted Hiccup to walk; to be normal. And when he walked, he would show the boy how to fight, swim, run, everything Dagur could do, he’d make sure Hiccup could do it just as well.

”Okay,” Hiccup panted. “Okay, I’m coming over.”

Dagur said nothing, only watched him, eyes intent and wide with anticipation. He kept his arms out, and after a beat of silence, Hiccup took a step with his right foot, that was quickly accompanied by his left.

”There you go, Hiccup,” Dagur breathed heavily, nodding. “Yeah, that’s it. Just keep going. Don’t lose your pace,” he said, voice going stern at the end. “You’ve got this.”

Hiccup listened to his words, or he listened to something, because then his was moving his right foot again, followed by his left. The process repeated, and a bright look was growing on his face, as he moved closer to Dagur. There was a pause of his movement with each two steps, but it was the best progress Dagur had gotten for the past months.

”Come on, Hiccup. I’m right here. You can make it,” Dagur encouraged, waving his fingers. A bead of sweat went down the side of his face, and he wiped it away, his gaze never wavering from the other boy.

Hiccup had almost fallen again, but Dagur was glad that he hadn’t. He was sure if Hiccup fell one more time, he’d officially lose his entire cool. A couple more steps and the brunette fell into his arms, and the two stared at each other in disbelief.

”Holy Hel, Hiccup,” the redhead whispered, a large grin soon spreading across his face. “You did it! Hiccup, you did it! You walked!”

”Y-yeah,” the other boy muttered, expression whimsical and his voice far away, like he still couldn’t believe it. “Dagur. I did it,” he said, turning to the other with a grin of his own.

And he couldn’t help but laugh, but it wasn’t a sadistic or maniacal one; Dagur was laughing of pure joy, pure ecstasy. Yes, _yes, _finally, Hiccup would be normal. With more practice, of course, and he’d walk with a limp, but it would be the best situation than ever. Their hard work would pay off, and he could teach Hiccup everything possible that had to do with using his legs.

The echo of Dagur’s laughter was suddenly doubled, when Hiccup joined in. They laughed and laughed and laughed, unable to physically contain their overwhelming emotions.

It was the only time the Grapple Grounder really left his mind.

After another month of Hiccup practicing on his walk, he was able to walk fluently. Although he had a limp and he moved like he was crippled, he was able to walk without falling. And despite that having been a good thing, Dagur and him decided they would yet to tell the village, nor Hiccup’s parents. It was Dagur who suggested they wait til Snoggletog; it’d be a real present by then.

Snoggletog wouldn’t be til months later, although. Every time anyone made the rude remark of Hiccup, or said anything concerning his disability to walk, Dagur and him had snickered, snickers turning to giggles and then laughs. The entire village looked at them as if they were crazy, but neither had minded.

It was fall at this point, and Hiccup had grown to be an expert at walking, even managing to stunt his limp a little. Dagur couldn’t be on Berk all the time, though — he had a home, too, back on Berserker island. But, he and Hiccup sent something new to each other — it was known as what they called Terror Mail. Since Dagur couldn’t be there, they’d send letters to each other dead in the night via dragon. They kept it hidden and avoided anyone seeing: after all, who knows the types of things would happen, should the adults find out.

”Why can’t we just show them now, Dagur?” Hiccup asked him, voice pleading. He was seated at the edge of a lake, only in brown pants, shirt off and nothing covering his feet which were in not warm, yet not freezing water. 

“Because, Hiccup,” Dagur said, exasperated. He was beyond a bad mood; after being annoyed to no end by the twins, Hiccup’s questions only pushed him farther to annoyance. “I already told you. People are gonna like it better if it’s during Snoggletog. Now get in the water.”

Unlike Hiccup, Dagur was waist into the lake water, his arms extended towards the boy, also in just pants, body bare otherwise. His eye twitching impatiently.

”But it’s not for people to like it. It’s just for me being able to do something I couldn’t do before,” Hiccup protested, ignoring Dagur’s other words. He grabbed a shell from the shore of the lake, holding it to his ear. “Right?”

Dagur let out a frustrated growl, his fingers curling into fists and clenching. “Hiccup, I’m not gonna tell you again. Just get into the water! You want to learn to swim, don’t you?”

”Well yeah, but—“

” _Hiccup. _Get in the water. Don’t make me say it again.”

Finally recognizing that Dagur was not in the mood, Hiccup nodded slowly. “Okay, okay. I’m going,” he said, and hopped off the little ledge, plopping into the water. 

“Swim to me.” Dagur ordered. “Try, anyways. Move your legs and arms, like we practiced yesterday.”

And Hiccup did. Dagur’s blood rusher louder in his ears, and his heart hammered in his chest violently as the brunette drew closer. Soon enough his fingertips brushed against soft yet damp hair, and as suddenly as he had touched it, Dagur grabbed it, and he pushed Hiccup down and into the water.

There was a muffled shout from Hiccup, and Dagur couldn’t help but laugh. His two hands held the small boy into the murky, and beginning to get cold water. Hiccup thrashed his body, but he was already weak, and being underwater wasn’t helping him at all. 

The air was filled with the sound of splashing water and Dagur’s loud, unashamed laughter. There was no telling now how long the redhead had kept Hiccup down below — he himself didn’t know, too into the way Hiccup squirmed — and it was only when Hiccup’s movements began to cease, albeit slowly, that Dagur had paused and glanced down. 

And, like he had been punched in the face, the realization that Hiccup’s movements were slowing hit Dagur like a damn truck. Rapidly, he pulled the boy up. What good would it do him if Hiccup died right now? There wouldn’t be any. Hiccup wouldn’t be able to run or fight.

Complete relief grabbed Dagur in the chest when Hiccup sucked in a large gulp of air, his face getting a pale, almost sickly grey. His hair was moppy and hung in his eyes, which Dagur brushed out of the way. Fastily, he tossed Hiccup onto land, to which the boy coughed heavily, water slipping from his lips, gasping like a fish. 

“Y— you...” Hiccup sputtered, leaning on his forearm. Dagur only stared, a cold glare in his eyes. One minute he’d been laughing and now he was angry; and he didn’t have a reason. It was just the knot of cruelty fastening again, he guessed.

”Come on, Hiccup.” Dagur said after a beat of silence. “I still have to teach you.”

He swam away, leaving the brunette to deal with chaotic emotions and the aftermath of nearly dying.

Success had become imminent. Dagur nor Hiccup had ever spoken of the day in the lake, and Dagur much preferred it that way. He didn’t know if it was because Hiccup had become too scared to mention it, but it hadn’t matter. At least, not very much.

He hadn’t done anything like that again. Not because he didn’t want to — then again, Dagur never knew if the things he did were because he really liked it, because he’d never hurt someone like that. It was only just Hiccup, only Hiccup who made him so angry. 

Snoggletog was on its way, and it would be on Berk within a day and a half. Dagur and Hiccup had spoken so much about their big surprise they’d told everyone that, half the adults said that if it was anything less tremendous than Odin himself, they would be greatly disappointed.

“You should just tell me the surprise. I won’t tell a soul.”

It was Snotface himself who had walked up to Dagur, who had flopped down into the bench across from him in the mess hall. He looked smug, as per usual, and Dagur wanted to wipe the smirk and arched eyebrow off his face and throw it into the fire.

Instead, Dagur only snorted, stuffing his mouth of cooked codfish. “Yeah, as if. You’re just going to have to wait, like everyone else.” He replied, chewing and then swallowing his food. “If I tell you now, you’ll be so jealous you’ll try and tackle me. Then, I’d have to beat you to a pulp.”

Snotface went quiet, and Dagur stared intently at him, green eyes holding a stone cold glare. He’d stopped chewing his food, and there was a thick silence settled between them. He knew Snotface feared him — and this was one of the times Dagur found it heavily amusing rather than annoying.

His sudden laughter had made Snotface flinch, and Dagur reveled in it. His fists slammed onto the table as he cackled, shaking his head before waving his hand. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding, geez. Hel, you take everything so seriously, you know that?” The redhead asked, laughter soon reduced to chuckles.

”U-uh, yeah,” Snotface responded, and with a bitter chuckle Dagur stood, grabbing his wooden plate and spoon.

”Uh—huh. Hope to see you there, champ.”

Snoggletog began in the same way it always had. When it came around, everyone would report to the mess hall, and gather around the long circle table. There’d be a grand feast, and the citizens would be included. Dagur never agreed much to that, but this year, he was glad for it.

He brought Hiccup in the same way as before — in his cart. They received long sighs and stares, some even bothering to roll their eyes or look away. Judgemental people, they were, those in Berk.

And Hiccup was practically vibrating. It took a hard squeeze to his shoulder and a whisper to relax to get him to settle, but even then it wasn’t for very long. It was Stoick who helped Hiccup into his chair, and Dagur took a seat right across from him.

The dining hall had been tense when they had first entered, but now it was lively, roaring with laughter and talking and people eating. And, Dagur was the same way — after all, how could he not be happy? Everyone was going to see their show.

”Dagur,” Valka said, leaning over to him, “You said you and Hiccup had a surprise, didn’t you? A gift.”

She was a small woman, but her voice boomed at the last part, so much that it managed to grab everyone’s attention. Heads turned and conversations stopped, and Dagur took it as an opportunity to nod and grin.

”Oh, yeah. Go on, show them, Hiccup.”

And he _did. _Hiccup was grinning the whole way, as he lifted himself from his chair. There were a couple of soft gasps from people that Dagur heard, and he watched with wide eyes as Hiccup stood, balanced on his feet, before taking his steps around the table.

It was silent, so silent Dagur feared for a split second that everyone had froze from shock. Hiccup reached over a couple of people before grabbing a slide of bread that was at on one of the center trays. He took a single bite, and the hall grew unruly.

Vikings cheered. Some only continued to stare in shock, and Dagur saw Snotlout in the corner of his eye, who cursed and stomped his foot, no likely upset that he himself didn’t think of coming with the idea to make Hiccup walk.

Valka wept. She held Hiccup tightly in her arms so much that Dagur was afraid she was going to snap every bone in his body. She sobbed, muttering things that neither of them could comprehend, but it was okay.

Stoick was... Stoic, for the longest time, until Hiccup walked up to him. He embraced his son into a hug of his own, and Hiccup was so much more smaller than he, Dagur also thought, again, that his bones would break.

It was Hiccup who told everyone that it was Dagur who taught him how to walk. Praise came in every direction, and every person wanted to hug him. Minutes later, tears of his own were streaking down his face. Dagur had tried to hide them, but they wouldn’t cease, just pooling out of his eyes like waterfalls.

“What are you crying for?” His father, Oswald, has asked, and Dagur found that he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t say that he had taught Hiccup to walk by himself, that the pride, who’s slave he was to, spoke louder and meaned more than their voices or their hugs, that Hiccup walked only because Dagur was ashamed of having to take care a crippled boy.

The rest of the night was joyous. People danced, cheered, and it seemed like there was a weight that had been lifted that Snoggletog. That weight never settled on his shoulders again — it was gone. Yet still, besides his knot of cruelty, there was one of shame, and not just of Hiccup, but of himself. A shame that said, _How could you be so selfish? _

Time had passed since then. It’d taken a while, but at that point Hiccup could walk well enough on his own, though he still kept a sort of limp — or wobble, really, is what it seemed like. 

And with that time Dagur had shown him as much as possible. Hiccup was able to swim now, but it had taken a longer time than usual and some coaxing to get him into the water each time. He’d learn to run, although he couldn’t do it for very long, or else he’d get red in the face, and start to pant and cry. Hiccup could skip and jump, now, and so whenever they’d go into the forest, Dagur tried to run in the most difficult as possible route. He’d told Hiccup it was just practice.

There wasn’t much to teach him now, and that left sort of a dull, bored ache within Dagur each time he was with Hiccup and they had nothing else to do. It was both of their ideas when they decided that instead of hiding out in Rocklock Cavern as they usually did, they’d find new places to mark and name.

And they had. It was fall, and Dagur was now fourteen, and Hiccup eight. At this point, there was talents that Hiccup had been uncovering; like drawing and tinkering. The blacksmith, Gobber, had even taken him in for some “beginnning lessons”, but the first time Hiccup came back from that he was covered in charcoal and smelled of sweat, so Dagur didn’t let him go back whenever he was around. 

“It’s so calm,” Valka said, with Hiccup and Dagur in her and Stoick’s hut, but the chief of Berk was too busy to be home yet. Dagur was helping her with soon to be dinner, and Hiccup sat at the table, drawing away into his notebook. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we had a storm this afternoon.”

Neither of them said anything, so she didn’t press. Valka set down a tray at the center of the table, glancing at her son and his work.

“What are you drawing, dear?” Valka questioned, placing a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder. She tried peering over to get a look, and Dagur snorted. Hiccup and he didn’t really have boundaries, but if there was one thing Dagur wasn’t allowed to do, it was look through boy’s things, and that included his sketches.

”Um,” Hiccup said, and he quickly shut the book, “It was just a dragon.”

Respecting his wishes, Valka turned back to the counter. “Oh? And what type of dragon?” She asked, voice preening with interest.

What Dagur had expected was a name he’d heard before. Monstrous Nightmare, maybe. Zippleback. But what he hadn’t expected were the next words that came out of Hiccup’s mouth — “A Grapple Grounder.”

He was so surprised he’d cut his finger with a knife. Blood seeped out and Dagur hissed softly, asking Valka for a bandaid.

”You really should be careful when cutting those tomatoes,” Valka scolded gently, and she placed the bandaid over his finger. While she was distracted, Dagur casted Hiccup a glare — they both knew the mention of that dragon set him on edge.

“A Grapple Grounder, you said?” She questioned, “Why that one?”

”Well, Dagur and I found one,” Hiccup said quietly fiddling with his fingers, eyes casted down towards the table. “but it was already dead.”

”Oh, that’s a sign of bad luck, you know,” Valka replied. 

Silence settled between them. No one spoke, and Dagur was glad they didn’t. He was sure he would have blown up if they had. The amount of strength it took him not to had given him whiplash, even.

As soon as he had finished cutting the tomatoes, he and Hiccup had raced out of the hut and towards Land’s End River. 

Being long past sight of anyone seeing them, Dagur stopped running at an area of bush. It was heavily wooded and green, humid air making him start to sweat. Wiping the beads off his head, Dagur grabbed a branch, tossing it off from the ground.

”Come on, Hiccup. Help me get the boat out.”

The boy was silent, and Dagur knew why. Anything concerning water, with he and Dagur alone always put him on edge, got him jumpy and nervous. After all, he’d had a bad experience with it. Ever since that say, Hiccup had changed, and Dagur despised it.

Hiccup didn’t move at first, and so Dagur casted him a glare. Like a spring, he quickly helped the redhead, removing the leaves and sticks, discarding them somewhere onto the floor. It hadn’t took long before it was clear, and in the wake of the nature debris gone, laid a boat, crafted unruly by inexperienced hands and brute construct. Dagur could feel the tightening in his chest — the knot.

He said nothing although, simply nodding to another bush. “Get the ores. I’ll grab the boat,” he said, and not awaiting for any of Hiccup’s words, lifted the hunk of wood up from the ground. He heard Hiccup’s receding footsteps, and began dragging the boat in the direction of the river.

After tense silent moments, the two had reached the river. The air smelled of soon too be rain, but Dagur guessed it wouldn’t be anything more than a sprinkle. Besides, after all — if it rained too hard enough, there was enough shelter given by the trees.

When they had gotten into the boat, Hiccup didn’t speak. Turned his head away and let his hand glide in the water, peering into the murkiness. Dagur watched with meticulous eyes as he shuddered and looked in any other place than his own reflection in the pool.

“Hiccup—“ Dagur started, deciding to break the silence, “Why were you drawing the Grounder?”

And, finally, he had gotten the boy’s attention. Hiccup looked at him, expression monotone before he shrugged, shoulders rolling and the gaze of his eyes casting towards the floor of the boat. “I don’t know, I just— I’ve never forgotten about it, and I know you never did either, Dagur.”

Green eyes peered up at him, speaking words and volumes that Dagur couldn’t decode. They remained like that, before there was water on him — splattering onto his hands, dripping lightly and dripping down into the river.

Dagur glanced up. The sun was chased away entirely, darkness covering the sky like a blanket. White lights shone through it, like a pathetic attempt to replace the bright yellow sun. Dagur snorted at that notion.

”Maybe we should head back,” Hiccup suggested, and he too glanced up, hand hung over his eyes. “It’s gonna rain, and I don’t wanna be all wet, Dagur.”

”Jut relax, Hiccup,” he said, leaning back, and the boat glided against the water, no sudden rifts or turbulence. “It’s just a sprinkle. We’ll get back in time for dinner, okay?”

At that, Hiccup sighed, but then he nodded, he too leaning back, closing his eyes. “Okay. You promise?”

And Dagur yawned, stretching and yawning, body languid and lax against the boat. “Yeah, sure, Hiccup. Just don’t piss me off and we’ll be back in time. Now that, I can promise.”

”..Okay, Dagur.”

It hadn’t been dilatory for Hiccup to get frightened. The sky had gotten darker, dark enough that Dagur saw no stars nor clouds. The rain had gotten harder, beating down on them with a force that had no affect, but Dagur knew that it would soon. The only time he saw any of the sky was when lightening struck, powerful and loud, roaring so intensely that Hiccup had whimpered and reached out for him. Marsh crows flew by, squaking and squealing.

“Relax, you big baby,” Dagur groaned, and with an ore, he had steered their little makeshift boat to land. The more Hiccup whimpered and tried to cling to him, the more offset he became, knot tightening and tightening. 

The boat hit the land with a muffled thud, and Dagur hopped out. It was time for them to go home, and they’d decided on traveling by foot. After all, there was no way they could fight the river current with it so strong, and Dagur had been growing sick of the water anyways.

His feet landed on mud, that squished uncomfortably underneath his food. The redhead made a face, and he glanced up upon the sound of a thud and splatter, and he looked towards the boat only to find Hiccup on all fours, covered in mud.

”Seriously?” Dagur scolded, and then helped the boy up, who brushed himself off and smiled unashamedly. He scanned Dagur’s expression for a sign of mercy, and Dagur denied him — there was none.

He had instead turned and walked away, ducking underneath the shelter of the thick tree leaves. The faster he walked, the faster Hiccup did, and with the thunder clashing he had become so terrified he was practically running over Dagur’s heels, and so the redhead had began to run, back in the direction of Berk. 

The rain was roaring, and the thunder crying and lightening screaming. There was a sharp clash, and the sound of a horrible rip, and ahead of them, a great oak creaked and toppled over the side, onto the forest floor, its leaves sticking into the fast moving river. Hiccup gave a shout of surprise, something Dagur only distantly heard before he lunged over the tree, landing onto jelly mud before continuing his run. 

Seemingly, there was a pause, where all noise stopped and Dagur heard nothing but his own breathing. And in that pause he heard a phrase of words;

”Dagur, wait! Dagur, don’t leave me! Please, _don’t leave me!”_

The knowledge that, even though Hiccup could walk, yet his shame and anger still remained within himself caused his knot of cruelty to awaken once again. In his bitter, toxic rage, Dagur ran as fast as he could, so much so he could no longer hear Hiccup’s voice, so much that only the fallen tree and Dagur’s broken promise was the only space that remained between them.

It was in the middle of Dagur’s rage that he had grown tired and weary, so much that he had stopped running, panting heavily, throat closed within his mouth. He turned back in the direction he had left Hiccup and tried listening for his cries, but he had heard none.

The thunder and lightning had ceased, but rain and wind were his new foes, clashing uncontrollably. He waited, peering through thick bushes and trees, through his eyes that were threatened to be splattered with water, but after what seemed like hours, no one had yet to come. With a frown Dagur began his journey back to the place he had left the prince of Berk, water on his face and dripping down onto his chest.

Finally, he had found Hiccup. The boy was huddled behind a red plant bush, leaning against a tree, his knees drawn up to his head which was nestled into his crossed arms. With a huff and an irritated growl, Dagur shook him gently, “Come on, Hiccup, get up. I’m soaking.”

There was no response, and Dagur clicked his tongue, sighing and muttering curses before he lifted the boy’s head with a single hand. Blood seeped from his mouth, pouring down his neck, his eyes rolled back. His face was pale, so much he reminded Dagur of a cloud. 

“Hiccup! _Hiccup!” _Dagur screamed, but then again, there was no response, instead Hiccup only flopped backwards onto the floor, his legs looking more bent than Dagur had ever seen them. So fragile, so thin, so weak. He stared at the body with tear filled eyes, and the salty water that dropped down his face from his eyes being the only warmth he had felt all night. He stared, blankly, at the familiar red before heaving out a despairing sob, bringing Hiccup up, close to his chest, providing shelter for his red Grapple Grounder from the fury of the rain.


End file.
